Notes: Inspired by a video I found on Facebook and the Klaine Valentines Challenge prompt 2019 "You Send Me" by Sam Cooke.
"Okay, Tracy," Blaine yawns as he bounces an eight pound, seven ounce bundle in his arms. "Let's try this one more time." He hums in the back of his throat, settling on a pitch before he adds the words:
"Darling, you send me
I know you send me
Darling, you send me
Honest you do, honest you do
Honest you do, whoa …"
Kurt follows the sound of his husband's voice, picking his way through the dark instead of switching on a light so he doesn't disturb anyone. Regardless of how well he knows his own house, he nearly walks into a wall, but manages to pinpoint the location of Blaine's singing and finds him in their daughter's nursery, sitting in the rocking chair in the center of the room, swaying slowly back and forth. As adorable an image as he cuts, Kurt is mildly confused as to what he's doing there at three in the morning.
"Blaine?" Kurt grumbles, voice raw from lack of sleep. "What … what's going on?"
"Well …" Blaine pauses to clear the cobwebs from his own throat, then re-thinks the move with Tracy in his arms "… Tracy woke up crying, and I wanted to give you a break, so I came in here to take care of her."
"You didn't have to do that, love," Kurt says, tiptoeing into the room to get closer to his husband.
"Yes, I did. I know I've been working long nights on the new musical and all, which means midnight feedings and whatnot have all been on you. But you wake up earlier than I do, and I get most of my sleep when Tracy's asleep. It doesn't seem like we're doing the same amount of work. And I've been feeling bad about it for a long time."
Kurt places a light hand on his husband's shoulder and kneads. "You don't have to do this. Really. You should go to bed and get some rest."
"No, no, no," Blaine says, nearly in tears because he wants to take Kurt up on his offer and go back to bed more than anything in the world. "I know you say it's alright, but it doesn't feel alright. You're always jumping on the baby grenade, and your lack of sleep? That can't be good for your health. I usually wake up rested. I can stand to lose a little sleep. So I'm … I'm … I'm gonna do it, Kurt!" Blaine whispers around the yawn that works so hard to interrupt him. "I'm gonna take care of our daughter! For you. And her. And you."
"Blaine … sweetheart …"
"And look! I did it, Kurt! I sang her to sleep. It took longer than I thought it would, but I did it. Aren't you proud of me?"
Kurt walks in front of Blaine and crouches into his view. He looks up at his exhausted husband – fluffy curls sticking up in all directions, mouth sagging at the corners from lack of sleep, eyelids barely staying open. "Blaine, I appreciate what you're trying to do, for me and for Tracy. And I couldn't be more proud of you for wanting to take care of our daughter."
"Thank you."
"Except, that's not our daughter."
Kurt waits patiently for those words to sink into Blaine's tired brain. There's a very real chance that he's not entirely awake right now, and Kurt doesn't want to do anything to jar him. Blaine continues to rock, but he begins to slow down. His rocking stops. He blinks his eyes. They open by millimeters to get a clearer look at Kurt's face.
"What?"
"Tracy isn't in here."
"Wha-?" Blaine looks around the nursery for moment in panic. "What do you mean she's not in here?"
"She had a nasty cold, so I moved her to the bassinet in our room. When she woke up crying, I took her to the bathroom to run the shower, let her breathe in some steam. I put her back to bed a few seconds ago."
"And … she's asleep?" Blaine asks, sounding confused and mildly betrayed.
"A-ha."
"So, what have I been singing to for an hour?"
"I suspect that's a blanket." Kurt unwraps the bundle in Blaine's arms. At first, Blaine doesn't let him, refusing to believe that he was tired - and idiotic – enough to mistake a rolled up blanket for his infant daughter. But eventually Kurt comes to the end of the pink square of fabric, and lo and behold – no baby.
Blaine squints at the nothing in his arms and frowns. Then he looks at his husband, beaming up at him with the softest, fondest smile on his face.
"You're not going to tell anyone about this … are you?" he asks, stealing the chance to clear his itchy throat now that he knows he's not going to wake anyone up.
"Oh, I'm going to tell everyone about this," Kurt teases, standing and helping his husband to his feet. "But only because it shows how compassionate and loving a husband and a father you are." He kisses Blaine on the temple. "Everyone should be so lucky."
"When you put it that way, I guess it doesn't make me sound like too much of a fool."
"No, it doesn't. Come on. Let's get you to bed."
"I don't think I could get to sleep now," Blaine pouts. "I'm too tired to sleep."
"What if I sing to you?" Kurt asks, wrapping an arm around Blaine's shoulders and leading him through the door before he almost hits the wall like he did.
Blaine sighs, sinking into his husband's side, ready to sleep on his feet. "That would be nice."